


Kaal Kaaz

by geekygirl007



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Pre-Helgen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekygirl007/pseuds/geekygirl007
Summary: The story of Kat's life before coming to Helgen, and becoming the Dovahkiin. A ridiculous, sometimes serious story, involving thieves, pirates, murder, and mayhem. And by "sometimes serious" I mean this is Kat, if you know her, you know she'll still make jokes when she and her friends are in mortal danger/dying.





	1. Kaaz

**Author's Note:**

> So, originally this was going to be one chapter for Opinions of a Dovah and Dovahkiin, about that classic prompt where you explain how a Dragonborn got in the cart to Helgen. But...I came up with a bunch of stories and characters, who I want to have show up in other things (Like Opinions). So...why not?
> 
> The name of this chapter: Kaaz is dovah for cat. Thanks thuum.org for the translations, I recommend checking it out at https://www.thuum.org/translator.php it's pretty fun to mess around with. Although, they don't seem to have swears in dovah, which is a shame. Kat would 100% swear in dovah if she could. :(
> 
> Also, trigger warning for child abuse in this first chapter.

It was the 175th year of the fourth era, and like every year before and after, many things happened. The battle of the Red Ring was fought over the Imperial city, taken the previous year by the Aldmeri Dominion, and won back by the Empire, after many deaths. The Great War ended afterwards, with the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, and with it, the worshipping of Talos was banned. All the Elder Scrolls stored in the White-Gold tower disappeared, and were scattered across Tamriel. Scholars are baffled to this day as to how this theft was accomplished. Many died, and many more were born, including a seemingly unimportant khajiit girl in the city of Senchal.

This girl, who was given no name at birth, was rarely given food by her parents, who prefered to spend their money on skooma. So to feed herself, the girl begged for food, or stole money from the pockets of drunk sailors on the docks. When she wasn’t stealing from them, the girl hid behind crates or otherwise out of sight, and listened to the sailor’s stories. Grand tales of the other provinces, of sea battles, and beasts. It was here, hidden in a barrel on the docks of Senchal, that the girl first heard of dragons.

“I’m telling you Amiel I seen a dragon!” Cried a sailor. 

“Dragons are all dead you fool, and if you had seen one you’d be dead.” Amiel replied.

“It’s true captain! I seen a dragon up in the north. I know it was a dragon cause it had giant wings and spat fire!” Argued the first man.

“Alright Brauman, sure. Let’s say you have seen a dragon. How did you escape?” 

“Well, I-”

“Hey!” Interrupted a third man. The girl looked up, looming over her was a khajiit man, dressed in a guard uniform. She jerked to the left, shoving the barrel onto it’s side, and scrambled out. The guard grabbed her by the scraps of cloth she wore, and yanked her up, hauling her scrawny body off the ground like she weighed nothing. “This one’s been looking for you, thief.” He hissed.

“Thief?” Asked Captain Amiel, who had his arms crossed. He had fair silvery blond hair, and grey eyes. He wore a long blue coat that went down to his knees, a horrendous decision for a summer in Senchal, though the girl guessed he wore it to conceal the sword on his belt. She just caught a glimpse of the sun on the metal before he pulled the coat tighter. The girl’s eyes searched for more weapons, and spied a dagger hidden in his boot. He didn’t seem the honest sailor type. If she could just reach that dagger...

“Yes Sir, why do you think she was hiding in a barrel and eavesdropping on you? This damn city is full of thieves. Many of them prey on sailor’s who dock here.”

“I ain’t steal nothing Sir! I swear! I was just listening to Mr. Brauman’s story about dragons.” The girl cried, her tail lashed, and she clawed at the arm that held her.

“You heard her, she hasn’t stolen anything from us. Is there anything missing from your pockets Brauman?” Amiel asked, the bald redguard checked his pockets. 

“No captain.” He answered.

“Well there you have it, the girl just wanted to hear a story. You can let her go now.” Amiel suggested.

Grumbling to himself, the khajiit dropped the girl onto the dusty docks and stalked off. She was back up in a moment, rushing away from the docks to the relative safety of the cities dark alleys.

Amiel sighed and put his hands on his hips.

“You’re welcome kid!” He called after her.

“She probably was trying to steal from us Captain.” Said Brauman.

“Course she was. Sometimes you have to help out a fellow thief.”

*****

The girl tore through the dark alleys of Senchal, kicking up sand with her bare feet as she raced past addicts, beggars, and thugs. Her favourite alley to lose guards in ended with a wall of stone, with a tiny hole just large enough for her six year old body to squeeze through. She passed through it now, and emerged into the poorest district of an already poor city. 

The houses here were made from the driftwood of wrecked ships that washed ashore, and they had no doors other than torn sails. 

The girl slowed as she passed the shelters of beggars and gangs alike, move too quickly in this district and people assumed you had something worth stealing. She had made that mistake only once, and been jumped by a gang made up of orphans. When she informed them she had nothing on her, they beat her, demanding to know where she hid her loot. 

The fight ended when the girl bit the gang leader’s ear, tearing half of it off. The other children left her alone after that, but that wouldn’t protect her from older thieves, who had both size and knives on their side. So the girl shuffled past and kept her head down until she reached her own make-shift “home”. 

The sun beat down on her torn-sail roof, stretched between the wood of a neighbouring “house” and kept in place on the ground by rocks, forming a dingy canvas lean-to. 

Stomach rumbling, the girl lay down, in the sand beneath her sail. The sun stabbed into her eyes through the holes in the cloth. Her eyes snapped shut against the brightness, and she tried to imagine better things. 

The lush forests of Valenwood, mountain peaks in Hammerfell, the freezing northern province of Skyrim. Compared to the blazing desert she lived in, freezing didn’t seem so bad.

Then she thought of the dragons the sailors mentioned. Dragons were powerful. They had giant claws to take what they want, and massive wings to carry them wherever they please. If she had money to bet, she’d wager no dragon died for want of food.

Growling, the girl stood.

*****

The desert air was not so harsh at night, under it’s cooling cloak thieves in Senchal ran rampant in such large number that guards refused to patrol from sunset to sunrise. Every night, gangs claimed certain spots, a mutual agreement that no thief would trespass in another’s hunting ground, at least til the sun came up.

The girl knew of this truce, and stayed well away from the territories of the larger and older thugs. Tonight she hid outside a lesser known bar, waiting for drunk patrons to come stumbling out. It was her favourite spot. The ditch opposite the bar would be helpful if anything were to go wrong, and the girl figured it’d be easy to push a drunkard into it and mug his corpse.

The door swung open and the girl’s first victim of the night emerged. A short breton man with dark hair, who fell to his knees and vomited onto the sand. The girl crept from her hiding place and crept up behind him. A coin purse was tied to the back of his belt, which sagged from the weight. Using her claws, the girl snatched the purse and dashed. 

The man was faster, he grabbed the girl’s arm and wrenched her to face him. The girl hissed and the man shoved her backwards, into the ditch. 

Howling in pain, the girl hit the mud and rocks at the bottom. Looming above, the man’s head scanned both directions, and he fled the scene. In tears at the bottom, the girl bit her tongue to avoid screaming, and examined her right arm. It was bent unnaturally towards her.

Starving and broken, the girl crawled out of the ditch, and used her left hand to hide the coin purse in the folds of her ragged clothes. With nowhere else to go, she pressed on toward the poor district, to a hovel she had planned never to enter again.

*****

It was one of the nicer shanties, made of wood that was not rotten nor covered in barnacles. It had a sail for a door, with the least holes the girl had ever seen. She stuck her head through the canvas door, and peered inside. Two older khajiit lounged within, laying on a rug placed ontop of the sand.

“Ma, da, may I have some food?” The girl asked, gritting her teeth in pain.

Her father stirred and sat up, a dull knife already in hand. Her mother had taken too much skooma to be aware of much of anything.

“Da? How can Nashta be your da when you look nothing like Nashta?” Nashta did have a point, they looked nothing alike. His fur was a darker black colour, whereas the girl’s was a lighter brown. His ears were thin and pointy like an arrowhead, where hers were shorter and more round. Even their eyes were different, hers were a bright amber, and his seemed to have no colour at all, though that may have been thanks to skooma.

“But ma said you were…” The girl started, clutching her broken right arm close to her chest.

“How can Fayama be your ma when you talk nothing like her?” Fayama said, sitting up, more aware than the girl had thought. 

“I just want something to eat.” Sobbed the girl. Nashta struck, slapping her across the cheek. It stung, but the girl was afraid to let go of her broken arm to soothe her cheek. 

“Lazy leech. You expect Nashta to pay for food you haven’t earned?” He growled.

“But I did earn it.” Sniffed the girl, letting go of her arm for a moment to grab the coin purse from the fold in her clothes. She held it out for Nashta and Fayama to see. It was heavy, there had to be at least fifty septims inside, it was a lucky "find".

“Give that to Nashta!” He demanded, reaching for the bag. 

The girl pulled it away and stepped outside into the night, Nashta followed. 

“Give Nashta the money, cat.” He ordered, holding out the knife, and slashing with it, catching the girl across her face. Blood dripped from the wound, starting just above her rigth eye, and down to her left cheek. Sticky blood mixed with salty tears and matted her fur. 

“Help!” Shouted the girl, stumbling backwards. “Somebody help me!”

Nashta shoved the girl, and she fell onto her back in the sand, dropping the coin purse. From the mostly untorn sail-door, Fayama emerged, an empty bottle of skooma in her hand, and a smile on her face, she was laughing. The girl kicked her legs, scrambling away, flinging sand into Nashta’s eyes as he leaned down to pick up the purse.

“Shut up, you stupid cat.” Fayama hissed, snatching her right leg.

“Help!” The girl yelled, kicking Fayama in the face with her left leg and jumping up to her feet. Nashta slashed out with the knife a second time, but the girl ducked, and the dull blade bit air. 

“Stay still you worthless kitten!” Demanded Nashta, slashing again and again, with no technique. The girl sidestepped him once, and ducked once more, grabbing a fistfull of sand with her left hand, and threw into his eyes. 

Nashta howled, clawing at his eyes, bloodying his own face, Fayama laughed once more. 

“Stop laughing! Help Nashta you wretched-” Nashta was interrupted by an arrow protruding from his neck, it’s sharp point sticking out the front, it looked like one of his pointy ears, only much more red. 

Fayama whirled around, right into into a waiting blade. The woman who carried the blade cut Fayama down, and she crumpled onto the ground next to Nashta, both their blood spilling onto the sand.

“Are you alright little one?” Asked the sword wielder, wiping blood off her blade with Nashta and Fayama’s sail-door. She was a khajiit with fur the colour of sand, and three gold hoops in each ear, there was a bow dropped at her feet. 

The girl didn’t answer, so the woman kneeled infront of her, offering a hand with glowing yellow magic swirling around it. 

“Do you have a name? Mine is Shazra.” The woman said, her magic swirled around the cut on the girl’s face, sealing it shut.

“You don’t talk like a khajiit.” The girl replied.

“Neither do you. I spend a lot of time with humans and elves, eventually their way of speaking rubs off.” Shazra explained, examining the girl’s arm. “I’m not skilled enough to heal this, but I’ll help you cast it, should be better in about three weeks. After that, take it easy for at least a month or two.” 

“Thank you.” Replied the girl.

“Sure you don’t have a name?”

“They didn’t give me one,” she said, gesturing with her left hand towards the bodies. “Other than ‘cat’.” 

“Then take that name and make it your own. Make it a name to be proud of, Kat.” Shazra suggested. 

“Cat?”

“With a 'k'. It’s unique, and easy to remember.” She smiled, and picked her bow up from the ground. “Now Kat, the only people worse than child beaters in this world, are witnesses who could have done something and don’t help. Witnesses like me, which is why I helped you. Once your arm is healed I want you to start practicing with this bow, I want you to be a witness who can help. And a woman who can defend herself.”

Kat accepted the bow, even though it was too large for her, and Shazra removed her quiver, and put it on Kat’s back, there were three arrows in it.

“You should probably hide those until you can use them, don’t want you getting mugged. Now let’s see what we can do about that arm, Kat.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shazra attempts to teach Kat about magic.

With one hand, Kat wrapped the bow and quiver in cloth, and carried the bundle to the outskirts of the city. In the small hours of the morning, she dug her claws into the sand, and buried the bundle. She marked the spot with a small grey stone, then counted her steps between the stone and the nearest building. It was fourteen steps to the old, crumbling house. As long as Kat could remember, the scorched remains of the house had been there. No one had come close to it in years, for fear of a curse. People whispered that a mage had once lived there, that he had burned it down himself using magic. No one ever said anything else. 

Kat wasn’t worried about any curse, not when she had important things to worry about, like eating and sleeping, and not getting stabbed. There was no one around this time of night, and gangs kept to more populated areas of the city, so Kat flopped down in the ruins of the house and slept under the stars, and for the next few hours, worried about nothing.

In the morning, Kat passed through the marketplace on her way to the docks, and bought a chunk of mutton to quiet her stomach.

“Honestly, have you ever met a trustworthy mage captain?” It was Brauman, packing crates just like he’d been doing yesterday, Kat ducked behind one of them, hoping to hear more stories, knowing Brauman would likely shout for the guards if he saw her. Brauman and Amiel seemed to be in the middle of an argument.

“Trustworthy mage? Brauman, I’ve never met a trustworthy person.” Said Amiel. “Everyone has a price.”

“Even so, I’d never hire anybody who could melt my face off with a thought.”

Kat gulped down the rest of her mutton, and listened to them talk for the next hour. Amiel spoke of powerful mages who summon monsters and illusions both, who could calm or enrage someone with just a touch, who could heal broken bones and seal cuts. She thought of Shazra, and how she forgot to ask how she had learned magic. 

After about an hour, Brauman grabbed one last crate that smelled of radishes, and the two voices grew softer as they walked away. Kat peeked her head out from the top of her crate and watched them head down the dock towards what must have been Amiel’s ship. 

It was a tall brigantine, larger than most ships that docked at Senchal, and appeared by far the most expensive Kat had ever seen. A carved figure of a black dragon roared at it’s bow, and it’s tied sails were still blaringly red, gold letters shone on the side, though Kat could not read them. To Kat, it was a display of wealth, wealth captain Amiel had to spare. The kind of wealth only nobles, or daring criminals had.

“I like this place, it’s charming really, filled to the brim with young thieves.” Kat strained to hear Amiel as he and Brauman got farther away.

“You only like it cause they remind you of yourself at that age.” Replied Brauman.

“Exactly, Brauman. Still, we’ll have to make Senchal a permanent part of the trade route.”

Then they disappeared onto the ship, and Kat turned away to find Shazra.

*****

Shazra had told Kat she was staying in the Sea Harpies Inn, so she headed back towards the marketplace.

It’s hard to hear the stalking of footsteps on sandy pathways, but Kat was used to being followed, and twitched one of her ears back to hear better. Kat didn’t have to look to know there was an alley up ahead, her feet carried her there on instinct, as she turned into it’s shadows, she looked out the corner of her eye. She knew the thief who was following her, and he didn’t frighten her. It was hard for Kat to be frightened of the thieves her own age, especially one she’d already bested. 

“You want to go again, Dahren?” Kat laughed, whipping around when she got halfway down the alley. The boy was a high elf, and even shorter than Kat. Half of his right ear was bitten off.

“I’d beat you easily kitty, what with your one arm.” Dahren smirked.

“I don’t need both arms to bite your other ear off!” Cried Kat. 

Dahren’s fists clenched, purple sparks flying around them, Kat’s stomach-as well as her confidence-hit the ground. Eyes scanning in desperation, Kat spied a rock, and hurled it at Dahren’s head with her left hand. The boy sank to his knees, hand clamped to his cheek, blood spilling between his fingers, Kat ran past him and didn’t look back.

“Come back here coward!” He cried. Kat kept running until she swung through the door of the Sea Harpies Inn. It wasn’t so crowded during the day, and Kat spotted Shazra snoozing at a table in the back.

“Shazra?” Kat asked sitting in the chair opposite, her feet didn’t touch the floor, and she had to jump to sit in it. “Shazra?” She asked again, reaching across the table to poke her in the face. 

Shazra bolted up, nearly knocking the table over, hand on her sword hilt. Then she saw Kat, and relaxed again.

“Morning, little one. It’s morning right?” Shazra asked, peering out a window. “Oh, more like midday I’d guess. You want something to eat?”

“Yes, thanks Shazra.” Kat answered, though she’d eaten not an hour ago. Food was food, and that wasn’t something she could afford to refuse. “How did you learn about magic?” She asked, while Shazra hailed a barmaid and ordered their meals. 

“Why the sudden interest?” Wondered Shazra. 

“There’s this boy…” Started Kat.

“The cute kind or the stabby-asshole kind?”

“Uh, the wants to zap me to death with magic kind?”

“Oh, well that’s no fun. You want me to take care of him for you?” Shazra offered. The barmaid came back to the table with two plates of food, both held a slice of bread, a slab of beef, and a small pile of grilled leeks. 

“No, I want you to teach me to ‘take care of him’.” Was Kat’s answer. 

“It’ll be difficult till your arm heals.” Replied Shazra, stabbing her slab of beef with a fork. “Unless you have some magic ability and you’ve been holding out on me.”

“I lit a fire once,”

“Oh?” Said Shazra through a mouthful of beef.

“It was pouring rain and I lost my flint.” Kat explained.

“Alright, I can work with that. But I don’t teach on an empty stomach, so eat up.” Shazra smiled.

Kat smiled back and devoured her meal like she was on a time limit.  
*****

“I was right around your age when I figured out I could use magic,” Shazra began. They were on the outskirts of town, by the cursed house. “I don’t remember a lot from back then, but I do recall setting a lot of things on fire, most of them were on purpose.” With a wave, she summoned a small flame to her palm in demonstration.

Kat stared at the orange flame, transfixed that something so lovely could be so deadly. 

“Hey, kid. You paying attention?” Asked Shazra.

“Yes.” Kat lied. 

“Guess I’ll have to teach you how to lie too. Well, one thing at a time. Destruction magic is the most volatile and dangerous school of magic, it’s an angry type of magic, and requires a lot of discipline.” Shazra extended her arm and the flame extended out to the ruins of the house. The already soot stained wood caught fire, and smoke rose into the air.

“You need to know how to stop it as much as how to start it.” With another wide arc of her arm, the flames died, leaving the wood smoking. Shazra looked back at Kat to make sure she was listening. “Uh, did that sound vaguely professional? I stole it from some fancy Guild mage in Cyrodiil, at least the parts I remember…”

“What does professional mean?” Asked Kat.

“Nevermind. You just need to practice, preferably in safe areas where nobody who doesn’t deserve it will get hurt.” Shazra kneeled down down infront of Kat. “If you’re worried about this asshole hurting you, you can stay with me at the Inn for a while, I’m usually there after midnight, and at midday, the room at the end of the hall, knock twice.” 

“Thanks Shazra.” Kat smiled.

“Anytime, kid. And my offer still stands, I’ll take care of that jerk for you. Just ask.” Then she patted Kat on the head, and walked off.  
*****

Kat did not ask for the next two weeks. She kept to her regular routine, sleeping at the 'cursed' house for a short few hours at night, and again in the midday heat. Stealing from drunks after dusk, listening to stories from sailors and practicing magic in between. 

Eventually Kat found that Shazra was right about fire being an angry magic, she tested it every day at the ruin’s of the mage's house, setting aside one plank in the sand at a time to ensure she didn’t burn down the whole thing. It was far simpler to set something on fire than to put it out, anger is strong, and so is flame, and to put it out she needed to let the anger go. Most of the planks burned to dust before Kat could put them out.

“Hand over your septims and no one gets hurt.” Kat ordered, holding a small flame in her hand. This was the first time she’d mugged someone, usually she stuck to pickpocketing, but now she had a weapon to work with.

The man was short for a wood elf, with red hair and eyes that flitted back and forth in constant fear. Kat had stalked him for hours before deciding he’d make for good practice. He was alone, a stowaway from what she heard, he had no weapons and appeared to be an addict of some sort. On his fingers were shining rings that spoke of a wealth he once had, probably some disowned noble. 

“Hand ‘em over!” Growled Kat, the flame in her hand growing larger, feeding off her rage. 

With a gulp, the man stepped back, pulled three rings off his fingers, and let them fall into the sand. Then he stood still like a statue, unblinking and staring at the flame.

“Shoo.” Kat said. He scurried past her like a hare bolting from a predator and never looked back. With a laugh, Kat’s anger dissipated, and the flame choked out. She crouched down to pick up the rings with her left hand, and tucked them into separate pockets so they wouldn’t jingle. 

Zigzagging through Senchal to throw off any thieves that might have been watching, Kat searched for a place to bury the rings until she could find a place to sell them. 

By then, it was nearing midday, and anyone worth robbing was indoors, so Kat headed back to the Sea Harpies Inn, found Shazra’s door and knocked twice.

“Too damn hot outside?” She asked, opening the door so Kat could slip past her.

“Yea, anyone I could rob went inside.”

“Well, it’s the perfect time for me to go fence some shit.” Shazra said, grabbing a small cloth bag that clinked as she slung it over her shoulder. “Lock the door after me, and don’t let anyone else in, I’ll knock twice.”

As soon as Shazra was out the door, Kat slid the lock over. Then she stepped to the small bed, and tore off the pillow and blanket, setting both on the floor. Yawning, she lay  
down, the bed would be too soft after years of sleeping on the ground. 

Kat closed her eyes, and for the first time, fell asleep with a roof over her head, a full stomach, and almost no fear of being murdered in her sleep.

Three hours later, she woke to a knock on the door. Three knocks to be specific. 

"I know you're in there kitty. Open the door or I burn it down." Ordered Dahren's voice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahren breaks into Kat's room, Kat starts training with a bow, and Shazra has some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-calculus is killing me, so just time for a short chapter to make me feel better.

Kat scanned the room. No Shazra, no weapons, the only escape a window too narrow for even her to crawl through. The smell of smoke burst into the room, Kat could hear the crackling of flames on the other side, could hear him taunting her.

Dahren kicked in the burnt door, splintering it, creating a hole just big enough for him to awkwardly squeeze through. He scanned the room, electricity crackling in his hands, but saw no trace of Kat.

"Come out kitty." He said, searching near the window and behind the door. 

From under the bed, Kat held one hand over her mouth to quiet shaky breathing, blinking rapidly to clear tears from her eyes. There were footsteps on the stairs, too heavy to be Shazra's, infact, she'd never hear them coming if they were Shazra's.

"What have you done to my door, boy?" Cried to the innkeep, stomping into the room. Kat lifted the blanket that hid her just enough to see the nord pull Dahren away by his good ear. Her heart thumped in her chest, she felt light headed, and began to sob into her hand. Eventually she smelled the smoke again, and leapt from her hiding place, fearing Dahren had returned, but he was nowhere to be found. The smoke was instead coming from the blanket she had hid behind, the whole bed was crackling with fire. 

Kat cried out and stumbled back from the larger of the two beds, falling onto the one across the room. As the fear hit her, the flames grew higher. Dahren had not done this. Wiping away tears, Kat took steadying breaths.

"He can't hurt me, he can't hurt me. He. Can't. Hurt. Me." She hoped if she repeated the phrase enough times, she would start to believe it. 

It took several minutes for her heart rate to return to it's normal pattern, and when it did, the flames died, almost like they snapped shut as would a pair of jaws. The blanket had all but burned away, the wood frame was scorched, and the smell of burnt feathers from the pillow lingered in the air. 

"I take it I missed something?" Kat's ears perked up, and she saw Shazra standing in the remnants of the doorway. Of course she hadn't heard her walk in.

Fresh tears streamed down Kat's face as she retold the story.

"Are they going to make us pay for the bed?" Kat asked with a sniffle.

"Or we could just say the elf did it." Shazra replied.

"But..."

"Kid, when you're a criminal, you gotta learn to take convenient excuses when they present themselves. You'll save yourself from a lot of jail time and running that way." 

*****

"Unfortunately kid, I don't have a stolen speech for using a bow, so you're gonna have to learn by watching, and repeating." Shazra informed her.

Kat had not seen Dahren for over a month now, (not that she was complaining) and that had given her arm plenty of time to heal. She suspected he was in prison for property damage, and she hoped he would stay there until she learned to put an arrow between his eyes from fifty paces away.

The lesson started off poorly, with Shazra showing Kat how to string the bow, which required a lot of strength she did not posses. After three failed attempts-during one of which Kat managed to hit herself in the eye-Shazra took pity and strung it for her. Then she demonstrated nocking the arrow, drawing back the string with her left hand, and loosing it. With a thunk, the arrow stuck itself in a plank of wood they'd strung up at the cursed house.

"Now you try, pull the string with your dominant hand." Shazra explained, passing her an arrow from her own quiver. Kat nodding and nocked the arrow. The fingers of her right hand pinched the feathered fletching, and the arrow's shaft wobbled away from the bow's shelf, hanging off to the side. With a laugh, Shazra tapped the arrow, knocking it back onto it's proper resting place.

"Make sure you hold the string, or else that'll happen." Shazra smiled down at her. Kat smiled back, and fired, the arrow sailed beneath the target in the window, and into the burnt house. 

"Go on and grab it kid. We got a lot of practice to get in today." Shazra gestured towards to house with a nod, and Kat skipped over to the house to collect it.

*****

Another month had passed with no sign of Dahren. Kat prowled the streets with a renewed confidence, young thieves were too scared to approach her with the bow at her back, and the more experienced thieves were only concerned with rich looking marks, not measly street rats. Little did they know, Kat earned more in a week than they did, and she did it without blood or wasted arrows.

She stalked a lonely merchant through the streets, he carried a large crate, a heavy burden that would make it cumbersome to chase after a thief. But Kat didn't want to take his coinpurse, she wanted his coin, the ruby necklace that bounced infront of him, the gold earrings that bobbed up and down, and the rings from his fingers. The crowd was too thick to follow him on the street, so Kat jumped ontop of a cart and onto a low roof, jumping from one to another, following the merchant until he came o a more secluded part of town. He whipped his head about in all directions and Kat couldn't help but laugh at the tourist. She slid down the tiles of the roof and dug he claws into the wood to climb down. 

"Are you lost mister?" She asked, approaching him from the front.

"I was trying to find a spice shop I'd heard about in the market, but it seems my feet have led my astray." Replied the imperial. In addition to expensive jewelry, he wore long red robes, with fine embroidery at the neck and cuffs. For a moment she considered stealing the expensive cloth, but decided it would be too awkward and heavy to steal.

"You mean Herbenum's Spices right? I can take you there, sir." Kat offered, waving at him to follow. 

"How kind, good to see not all of you filthy cats are savages." He said, trailing after her. Kat's fists opened, claws out and ready to strike. She forced herself to calm down, she'd get her opportunity soon enough. Through twisting alleys she led him, until he had no sense of where he was going or where he had come from, now she just had to wait for her moment. 

"Is it standard for all children here to carry weapons so young?" Asked the merchant, as Kat stepped around a corner and into an alleyway ahead of him.

"Yes." She answered, whipping around at the same time she nocked an arrow and pointed it at him. "It's a dangerous world out there mister. Now put down the box."

"You're not going to shoot me. You're just a child." Laughed the merchant. Kat pulled the string back further, in her anger, a small flame came to life at the arrow's tip. The merchant yelped and dropped the box, falling onto his back.

"Take out your coinpurse." Kat ordered. Shaking, the merchant untied the purse from his belt and held it out. "Now put your fancy jewelry in there." Kat waited while he pulled off his rings, necklace, and earrings, pulling the string of her bow tighter when she felt he was going too slow. It worked like a charm. Moron, she thought, scare 'em enough and you never have to shoot.

"Toss it over there." Kat ordered, gesturing behind him with her bow. Nodding, the man did exactly as he was told, tossing the pouch a few meters away from himself. "Pleasure doing business with you sir, Herbenum's Spice shop is two streets down, second door on the right." Kat smiled, letting the fire die and putting the arrow back in her quiver as she dove for the pouch, and zigzagged back through the maze of streets to the Sea Harpies Inn.

"Stay outta trouble kid, or at least keep it outside." Called the innkeeper. Kat rushed past him with a smirk on her face, and into Shazra's room. The door had been temporarily replaced by a a thin plank of wood that was a tad too small to cover the whole doorway. Shazra had "found" some parchment and drawn a sign to hang on it, when Kat asked what it said, Shazra read: "Trespassers will be shot, stabbed, burned, robbed, and maybe bit if disrespectful."

Flopping down onto the floor, Kat dumped her pouch of loot and started counting. As she finished counting, Shazra waltzed in, her own profits to count. 

"How much did you earn today kid?" She asked.

"110 septims, and maybe another hundred in jewelry." Kat answered with a smirk.

"Good haul kid." She praised, holding out a closed fist. 

"Huh?" Kat stared blankly up at her.

"You bump it with your fist. Me and my friends used to do it after a successful job." 

"But why?" She grumbled, lowering her hand.

"Nevermind, I gotta talk to you about something kid." Shazra continued, not meeting Kat's eye. Kat shuffled around on the floor to face her.

"Well that's onominious." 

"Ominous, good to know I taught you something. Anyway, I think the guards are closing in on me, I have to leave town, tonight. The room's been paid for, all next month. You're on your own after that, based on today's haul, I don't think you'll have a hard time paying for it." 

*****

Shazra had packed her things, and Kat went with her down to the docks after the sunset, when the guards stopped patrolling for fear of running into gangs. There were more ships than usual, including one with a dragon figurehead, Amiel's ship. The gold letters reflected the moonlight dancing on the water. On the ship's deck, Amiel waited with Brauman. 

Shazra started walking up the gangplank, but Kat tugged on her sleeve.

"What does that say?" She asked, pointing. 

"It says Dragonheart." Shazra explained, kneeling infront of Kat. "That's the name the Hero of Kvatch used in the arena at the end of the third era. I got to go now Kat."

"Can I come with you?"

"Sorry, kid. Dangerous as this city is, you're better off here than with me." Shazra said, then hugged her tight. After a moment, Shazra stood, and headed up the ramp onto the ship. 

"Weigh anchor!" Called Amiel, and a few minutes later the ship was sliding out of the docks, red sails catching the wind, heading north to Cyrodiil. 

Kat bolted to the edge of the docks and waved, Shazra stood on the stern, and called out:

"Remember kid, the only thing worse than a murderer!" She started.

"Is a witness who can help, but doesn't!" Kat cried, finishing the sentence. 

On the deck of the Dragonheart, and the docks of Senchal, two khajiit, one woman, the other just a girl, said into the night: "I'll see you again." Neither heard the other, but neither needed to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kat hones her thieving skills, dangerous people catch wind of her crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, instead of taking the usual 4ish hours to write and edit, this took about 6 because I'm a fool who doesn't keep a copy of their work, and instead of saving when I hit the save button, archive is all: "Nah, I think I'll force you to log in again for no reason." and deleting everything. :/ Why ya gotta be like that?
> 
> Bitter? Whose bitter? Me? Never.  
> It's fine though, i have several backup copies now and have it basically memorized. Woo. Never doing that again.

Dust flew up around around Kat’s boots as she walked towards the inn. This was the first time she’d ever worn real clothes, and the difference was drastic. The cloth didn’t scratch at her sides anymore, and her feet felt trapped. It wasn’t just how it felt though, it was how people looked at her. The envy in the eyes of other young thieves, wrapped in tossed out and moth eaten clothes. The respect in the eyes of older thieves, who said: “Movin’ up in the world, huh kid?” as she passed. The anger in the eyes of the adult thieves who’d been bested by an eight year old. 

As Kat flung open the door of the Sea Harpies inn, a nord came flying at her. She had just enough time to sidestep him as he sailed past, falling face first into the sand. Infront of her stood the innkeep, blood pouring from his nose. 

“Can’t pay, can’t stay.” He growled, holding up a cloth to his nose. “Is that understood?” 

Every single patron froze, some with forks halfway to their mouths.

“Yes Sir!” They cried in unison. 

“Yes Darius.” Mumbled a bosmer man at the back table. Kat stifled a laugh. Well, he's made a mistake, she thought. The giant nord stalked over to the bosmer, who was taking gulps from a bottle of rum. Darius’ shadow fell over the elf, and he stopped drinking, his hand shaking too much, eyes wide. Even pinching a cloth over his broken nose, Darius was as intimidating as he was tall. 

“Yes Sir.” Whimpered the bosmer. 

The nord growled, and snatched the bottle away. With a sigh, Darius settled behind the bar, and Kat hopped onto a stool. 

“I’ll take that if he’s not gonna finish it.” She offered.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious kid. I’m not giving rum away for free, to a child no less. You just stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, Darius.” Kat smiled wide.

Darius glared at her and grumbled something to himself, then reached below the bar, fishing out a folded piece of parchment and handing it to Kat. “That was nailed to my door this morning. I’ve been taking down as many as I can.”

Panicking, Kat nearly tore the parchment as she unfolded it. It was a wanted poster, a khajiit with a scar running above her right eye to the left cheek. 

“Pretty nice bounty on ya kid, five-hundred septims. You must have pissed off the guard captain bad.” Said Darius. 

“Why didn’t you turn me in?” Asked Kat, keeping her eyes on Darius’ hands for movement. Her ears flicked to the sides and behind her, listening for the clanking of armoured guards. 

“Kid, you’ve been a patron here for two years, that’s over seven-thousand septims. Why would I take a fourteenth of that? Bad business is what it is. Anyway, the only physical description they have is your scar, still it’s too easily recognizable, I’d skip town if I were you.” Darius explained. 

“You lose me as a customer either way, why not make a quick profit?” Kat demanded. 

“Fine, maybe I’ve got a soft spot for orphans like you, you little shit. Now go clean out your room, and make it look like you left in a hurry. I’ve gotta maintain my innocence as a harmless innkeep, so I’m telling the guards you were staying here, I’ll give you a nice head start though.” Darius admitted, pointing up the stairs. 

“Thanks Darius.” Kat said. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He replied, turning away to find a fresh cloth. While his back was turned, Kat grabbed the bottle of rum he’d placed on the counter, and tore up the stairs. The nord turned, and sighed. 

“More trouble than she’s worth.”

*****

The sun was setting over Senchal when a squadron of guards stormed into the Sea Harpies’ inn. Darius pointed the guard captain up the stairs, and was escorted out of the building. From outside he could hear the captain shouting commands to his soldiers, doors being kicked in, panicked patrons crying out. 

Shit, he thought, the damaged doors alone were gonna cost him more than he'd hoped.

“The innkeep told this one the thief’s room is at the end of the hall.” Said the captain, gesturing to his subordinates to open the door. “Door” was too lose a term though, where the door should have been, still stood the wooden plank. 

Two soldiers lifted the plank on their captain’s signal, and two archers with nocked arrows rushed inside. There was silence for a long moment, broken by a voice.

“The thief isn’t here Sir.” 

The captain sighed and stepped into the room. A table had been knocked on it’s side, the bed sheets had been shredded with claw marks, and broken glass was strewn across the floor dampened with rum. 

“Shit,” Sighed the captain. 

*****

Across the city, Kat sneaked through the alleys, careful to avoid the major gang territories, and the torchlight. It was a cold Hearthfire night, and she was glad she’d purchased a cloak along with her new clothes. She held the fabric tight and pulled up the hood, though her fur blocked the worst of the sea winds. 

Her boots passed silently through the sandy streets, the way only someone who’d been walking on sand their whole life could manage. It made it far easier for her ears to hear the crunch of someone behind her. 

Kat whipped around, shrugging the bow off her shoulder and nocking an arrow. 

“Feet get used to walking on stones in prison Dahren?” She laughed.

“Give me the bow, now.” Dahren hissed, holding out his hand. 

“What a dumb thing to say.” 

“I hear you’ve never killed anybody you mug, you just threaten to.” Dahren replied, taking a step closer.

“Aren’t you good at magic? Why would you need a bow?” Asked Kat, pulling the string tighter. 

“It’s easier to steal from a dead man, and it’s easier to not get caught if you kill quiet like.” Dahren took another step forward, testing Kat’s limits. “You won’t shoot me, you've never shot anyone! You’re just a coward. Not even a cat are you? You’re a filthy mutt, all bark no bite.”

Dahren took one last step forward, and Kat fired her arrow. The boy sank to his knees, squealing like a pig, the arrow protruding from his chest. 

Nocking another arrow, Kat closed the distance until she was standing over him, aiming for his head. With blood pouring onto the sand, Dahren writhed in pain, his mouth opening and closing, but no words erupted from his lips, only whines. 

“The only thing worse than a murderer,” Kat said, answering his unasked question. “Shazra would rather I kill you today than let you murder someone tomorrow.”

Then she fired the second arrow and Dahren ceased his painful jerks, though kat’s were just beginning. She held one hand to her mouth to avoid puking, and stumbled away from the body. Her limbs shook so bad it was a wonder how she managed to reach the docks with her bow in hand. 

Whistling tore Kat from out of her stupor. There were few people out at this time of night, but she spied a redguard dockworker heading towards her. 

Forgetting all about the coins at her belt that would pay for her passage, Kat dove into an empty barrel and pulled the lid ovetop. The whistling drew nearer, and Kat felt as the barrel was tipped onto it’s side and rolled down the docks, then up a ramp to a ship. She held her hand over her mouth still, not to avoid being sick, but to keep from crying out as the barrel was rolled down a set of stairs and into the ship’s hold.

The whistling faded and Kat was left alone with the dark. Alone with only the wood creaking overhead with the weight of sailors, and the ocean knocking against the ship’s sides. 

Kat listened to the rhythm of the waves as the ship with red sails glided out of the harbour.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidden inside a barrel, Kat begins to grow hungry.

There is no good way to tell time when one is hiding inside a barrel, but Kat didn’t think it’d be a good idea to poke her head out and check. She’d managed to fall asleep for what she thought was several hours at some point, but couldn’t even guess how long she’d sat crouched in a inside. All her muscles were sore, and bruised from the ride down the stairs. Her throat was drier than the desert she had left and her claws dug into her palms. It seemed her body was not content to wait here much longer.

Two sets of feet shuffled into the room, and Kat held a hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. 

“We seem to have an extra barrel, Captain. I checked the list ‘o cargo we picked up, twice.” Said one man, Kat could hear him scratching ink onto parchment. 

“Brauman, you need to loosen up a little. Life is about more than lists.” Replied the Captain, clapping the other man on the shoulder. 

“You best respect the list, nord.” Brauman growled. 

“Alright, alright. What’s a little extra cargo darling? It’s ours now, who cares?” 

“‘What’s a little extra’? What’s a little extra!” Cried Brauman, Kat couldn’t see when he threw down his notes on the cargo, but she heard them land with a thump. She shivered inside the barrel, and tried to fight off a coughing fit. “What if the guards in Senchal think we’re thieves!?”

“Sweetie, we are thieves.” Answered the captain.

“We don’t want them thinkin’ that though! We should avoid Senchal for a little while, wait ‘em out…” Kat tried to bite down on her tongue when Brauman trailed off, but she could hardly breathe. 

Between coughing and wheezing, Kat could hear a sword being drawn.

“Stay behind me Brauman,” The captain whispered, hesitant footsteps approached the barrel. Brauman didn’t respond, but Kat heard his heavy footfalls farther away. 

“Whose in the barrel?” The captain demanded, tapping it with his foot. Kat could only cough in response, squinting as the lid was wrenched away and light poured in. “For the love of Talos…” He sighed, sword dropping onto the deck so he could use both hands to pull her out. 

Kat blinked several times, even the dim light in the hold seemed bright after the barrel. Then she stared into the eyes of the man holding her, grey eyes. 

“Ami-” Kat choked out, another coughing fit taking over.

“Ain’t the kid who tried to mug us a couple years back?” Asked Brauman as Amiel set Kat down on the floor. She curled up on her side, knees tucked into her chest, tail wrapped around them. 

“Go fetch some water Brauman, now!” Ordered Amiel, taking off his blue coat and wrapping it around Kat. Brauman dashed out of the room.

“Come on, kid. You’re gonna be okay.”

*****

When Kat woke, her throat was still parched. She lay in a hammock in a small room, a pitcher of water sat on the table, along with a cup, and a tray of biscuits. There were murmurs outside and shuffling feet, right outside the door, but Kat paid them no mind. She snatched the jug of water and poured a hasty cupful, spilling some onto the floor. 

After several hearty chugs, Kat slowed down, sipping at it. Then she grabbed a biscuit from the pile to start gnawing on, though it was so stale she didn’t get far. Still gnawing, Kat stood and walked across the room to the door, placing her ear against it.

“Can you hear anything?” Came a voice from the other side. 

“I think I heard footsteps, Captain she’s awake!” Cried another voice. 

Kat stumbled away from the door and shrank under the table. Footsteps could be heard in the hall. After looking about the room, Kat realised her bow was not there. Weaponless, she reached her hand around and onto the table above her, and grabbed the serving tray, sending biscuits flying.

The door flew open, Kat could see a dozen sailors crowding the door, parting as soon as their captain drew closer. From under the table, Kat could only see his black boots and breeches, and the flowing end of his blue coat. The black boots walked closer to the table, and Amiel knelt down to pick up a biscuit. 

“They’re better when you dip ‘em in water. And by better I mean edible.” Explained Amiel, sitting down cross-legged infront of the table. 

Kat didn’t respond, her fingers held tight to the tray, claws scraping the metal.

“Come on, kid. I know you can talk. So talk to me.” He said. His crew fought for space in the doorway, men and women crouching under so taller people could see overtop of them, waiting.

“If you wanna throw me over I’ll take your eyes with me.” Kat replied. Both Amiel and the crew behind him laughed. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere. My name is Amiel.” He held out his hand to shake. Kat’s eyes flicked between him and his crew, and spotted Brauman in the back, pushing his way into the room. 

“This is why we have a list, Sir.”

“Oh, come on Brauman, look at her! She’s adorable!” Argued Amiel, the crew gave a collective nod of agreement.

Kat hissed. 

“And vicious! We got a keeper!” Amiel announced, the crew cheered, Brauman sighed and held his head in his hands. 

“Now back to work, the lot of you!” He ordered. This time, a groan rose from the sailors. “Brauman, you can show the new kid around.”

*****

It took a good ten minutes to coax Kat out from under the table, and another ten to get her to drop the tray and stop threatening to claw him. Eventually, they came to the compromise that Kat could keep the tray, so long as she promised not to bite or scratch him. 

“Come on then.” Grumbled Brauman, leading her down a series of twisting hallways until they came into a crowded room filled with maps, books, and loose parchment strewn everywhere. In the center was a table, a giant map spread out over it’s surface, the corners pinned down with stacks of books that looked ready to fall.

“You know how to read kid?” Asked Brauman, pulling two chairs that had been knocked over up to the table. 

“No.” Said Kat, sitting beside him. 

“Great! We get to start with the basics!” He cheered, there was no sarcasm in his tone, only joy. His whole demeanour changed in an instant. At first Kat had been sure he was  
only putting up with her because Amiel was ordering him to, now he seemed genuine. 

“Alright, so what’s your name kid?” He asked while he wove around the room, grabbing two inkwells, quills, and a stack of blank parchment. 

“Kat, with a ‘k’.” She replied, as he dove around the room, finally coming to a stop at the table.

“Well, that’s easy to remember. Also easy to spell.” He dipped his quill in the ink and scratched something onto the page. “This first letter is a ‘k’.” He explained, and drew another one beneath it. “Every word is made up of combinations of letters, and Kat is a three letter word, my name: ‘Brauman’ is a seven letter word…”

Brauman trailed off when he glanced at Kat’s wide eyes, the metal tray still in her hands.

“I take it I’m going to too fast and you’re going to slap me with that if I don’t slow down?”

Kat nodded.

“I’ll slow down.”

*****

Night had fallen by the time Brauman heard a knock on the map room’s door. Parchment was spread all over the table and the floor, covered in hundreds of poorly written letters. Kat had fallen asleep, face down on a piece of parchment. Brauman didn’t notice, because he’d fallen asleep before her, resting his chin in his hand, only jumping up and falling out of his chair when he heard Amiel enter.

Brauman put a finger to his lips and yawned, pointing to Kat. Smiling, Amiel crossed the room and picked her up, and couldn’t help chuckling. 

“What’s so funny?” Brauman whispered.

“There’s ink on her whiskers.” He laughed, carrying her down the hall, to the little room with the hammock, Brauman following. “How’d she do?” 

“She’s a hard worker, and a fast learner. Don’t talk much thought.” Brauman answered, stepping infront of Amiel and opening the door for him. Smiling, Amiel crossed the room and set Kat down in her hammock, then returned to Brauman by the door. 

“She’s definitely a keeper.” Amiel smiled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“She did threaten to hit me with a tray several times.” Brauman pointed out.

“Determination, brains, short temper, all the skills a good privateer needs.”

“Well...mostly. There’s a couple you’re forgetting.” Brauman protested.

Sighing, Amiel closed the door, and draped one arm over Brauman’s shoulder.

“Let’s worry about that in the morning, darling, right now I’ve got other things on my mind.” Amiel added with a wink as they walked down the hallway. With a laugh, Brauman planted a kiss on Amiel’s cheek.

“That’d be nice, but I’ve got a lot of inventory to catch up on, and there’s plenty of things we’re about to run out of, and…” 

“So multitask.” Amiel suggested. 

“Ha! Wouldn’t that be nice! And we could run out of food halfway to Leyawiin because I miscalculate the rations!” Brauman laughed, wiping a tear from his eye, and rushing ahead of Amiel.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you have a thing for lists!” Amiel called down the hallway.

“Respect the lists, nord! Respect the lists!” Came Brauman’s shout.

Sighing, Amiel headed up to his quarters.

The red sailed ship plowed through the water, the second night watch were relieving the first, the two full moons bright overhead. As Amiel flopped onto his bed, the ships’ warning bells rang. He jumped back up, flung open the doors and charged onto the deck.

“What’s going on?” He demanded.

A very pale-faced sailor pointed into the distance, on the horizon was a ship with black sails, steadily gaining on them. 

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was very tempted to summarise this chapter with "Kat meets her adoptive gay dads."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warning bells ring on the way to Leyawiin.

The bells rang in Kat's ears. She sprang out of her hammock, and snatched up her trusty tray before diving under the table. Feet pounded against wood outside her door. She strained her ears to make out the jumbled cries arising from the crew, but could only make out random sounds.

Counting seconds, then minutes, Kat waited in the dark of her room. Outside, the footsteps ceased, the panicked voices quieted.

Beneath Kat's feet, the ship jerked to a halt and lurched to port, Kat held onto the table leg closest to her to prevent it falling over. Above, the water pitcher spilled, pooling under the table and into Kat's boots. 

"Hello?" Kat asked, wet boots squeaking as she crossed the room and peeked out the door. The hall was empty, so Kat crept up the stairs, to the deck.

The whole crew was active despite the late hour, securing ropes, sharpening swords and stringing bows, or sneaking a sip of rum when they thought no one was looking. They were all too busy to notice a small khajiit girl armed with a serving tray. 

Kat ducked under and between crew members, trying to reach the ship's railing. It didn't take long, avoiding people was a delicate dance she'd learned in the streets of Senchal, and translated well to the ship's deck. There was a crowd of people at the railing, staring into the distance, Kat bent down, trying to look at the sea between the forest of legs. All she saw was dark water. 

Kat sighed and considered the tray in her hand, though, Amiel probably wouldn't appreciate her smacking one of his crew so she could get a proper look. Her fist unclenched, and the tray clattered onto the wood. The rigging loomed overhead, hanging down from the masts, taller than any building she had ever seen. With a gulp, Kat tried to tell herself it was just like climbing those buildings, just a bit higher. With a running leap, she managed to grab onto the ropes, using a very surprised crew member as a ladder. 

Now they noticed her, as she scrambled up the ropes. Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall, played on repeat in Kat's head. She tried to tell herself that if she fell, she would hit water, but her brain politely reminded her she didn't know how to swim.

"What are you doing girl? Get down!" Cried ladder-man. 

At the helm stood Amiel and Brauman, neither seemed as shocked as the rest of the sailors. Amiel left his position at the wheel to a bosmer woman, and descended to the main deck, a smile on his face. Brauman however, stayed by the wheel, shaking his head and crossing his arms. 

"Hey kid, what can you see?" Laughed Amiel. The rest of the crew looked nervous, aside from ladder-man, who looked ready to slug her. 

Kat turned her head towards the sea, and the black-sailed ship approaching.

“It’s a ship.” Answered Kat, a puzzled look on her face.

“That it is. How about you come down from there and I’ll explain?” He offered, leaning down to pick up her discarded tray.

After one last look at the ship, Kat climbed down, careful to avoid hitting ladder- man as she landed on the deck. The entire crew was staring at her now, they circled around like sharks, ladder-man at their front of the crowd. He was a nord, with an angry red face matching his hair, and he stomped towards Kat.

“Calm down there, Farii, you’re starting to look like a tomato.” Said Amiel, stepping between the two. “Now, back to work everybody!” 

The crowd dispersed, sounds of their nervous mumbles and swords sliding across whetstones rising. With his free hand, Amiel rubbed the back of his neck and stared out at the ship, growing ever closer. He held the tray out towards Kat.

“You can have this back if you like, but I’d recommend you go grab your bow from Brauman. Odds are, you’ll need it.”

“Can’t we outrun them?” Kat asked, grabbing the tray, and clutching it to her chest.

“Trust me kid, I love this old rustbucket, but in terms of speed, Dragonheart is an old Skyrim stallion, compared to that spry, fancy-ass Colovian.” Amiel explained, pointing at the black-sailed ship.

“That’s a no, right?” Kat asked, scratching her head. Amiel laughed, and leaned against the railing, Kat mimicked him, though she had to stand on her toes to see over the wood. 

“That’s a no. Go on and ask Brauman to grab your bow. When they get here, I want you to stand behind him, and don’t do anything stupid.”

Kat nodded, and dashed up to the helm to find Brauman. 

*****

The night wind whistled through Kat’s fur. She stood behind Brauman and the rest of the crew on the main deck. Ladder-man, Farii she supposed, had placed himself on the starboard side of the deck, as far from Kat as he could get. He’d been shooting her angry glares for the past ten minutes. 

Amiel and the bosmer woman stood by the railing, watching the ship drop it’s anchor and lower a row-boat into the calm waves. 

Bored, Kat shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and fiddled with the string on her bow. The rest of the crew were almost stone-still, aside from Farii, who glared at Kat again. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Kat smiled wide at the nord, closing her eyes and showing off her teeth. The nord gulped, and stared forward. He sent her no angry looks after that.

“Oh stop that.” Brauman nagged. “Be still.” 

Kat rolled her eyes, but ceased fidgeting. 

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Came a voice from the port side of the ship. It belonged to a woman, and sounded more like a command than a question. Between the much taller bodies, Kat saw Amiel’s flowing blue coat by the guard-rail. 

“Of course, Captain, you’re always welcome.” Said Amiel, sounding chipper. A rope ladder clanked against the side of the ship, and Kat finally saw the woman who was making the whole crew nervous. 

She was taller than Amiel, with bright eyes, pointy ears, and pale skin and hair. A high elf. There were two swords on her belt, and Kat could make out the hilt of a dagger in each of her boots. Based on the sheer number of weapons on her person, Kat guessed she was also thinking of dangerous spells to summon.

Four additional altmer climbed up the ladder, similarly armed to the teeth as their Captain. As dangerous as Amiel seemed, he looked like an innocent civilian compared to the elves.

“Still sailing with the lesser elves, I see.” Said the woman, gesturing towards the bosmer. 

“Lesser no, kinder yes.” The bosmer muttered under her breath, Kat’s sensitive ears caught it, and she let out a snicker. 

“Did she say something?” Demanded one of the altmer woman’s guards. His hand resting on the hilt of one sword.

“Oh, no no. She’s just got a bit of a cough. How about we get to business Aila?” Amiel suggested. 

“You know why I’m here, nord. Your debt is due.” Aila said. 

“Right, right. Uh, how much was that again?” Asked Amiel. 

Next to Kat, Brauman closed his eyes and sighed. 

“This is why we have lists.” He muttered, staring down at the deck. Kat looked up at him and patted his leg, attempting to be comforting. 

“It was a thousand septims, Amiel. Or did you think I’d forgotten?” Aila replied, speaking to him like one might to a child. 

Brauman stepped away from Kat, and the crew parted to allow him through, two of Aila’s guards accompanied Brauman down the stairs, returning a few minutes later, burdened with a chest. Kat could hear the gold within jingling with every step they took. 

“Count it.” Aila ordered. The mer flung open the lid, and poured the coins out onto the deck, the septims danced from their hands and back into the chest as they counted.

“I assure you, it’s all there, I’ve counted it myself.” Said Brauman, standing next to Amiel.

“Quiet, redguard.” Aila growled, a hand resting on one of her swords. The two mer continued to count, the others surveyed the crew, Kat felt their gaze like a hawk’s eye. She looked down at the wooden deck and froze. She could feel the gaze of one of the elves stop on her, she gulped, tail lashing. 

“There’s only six-hundred-thirty here, Captain.” Reported one of the mer. 

“That’s impossible, I counted it a few days-” Brauman was cut off when one of Aila's guards approached, and punched him across the face. Kat heard him hit the deck, and saw blood spill onto the wood. 

“Captain Aila told you to be quiet, redguard.” Said the mer.

The crew startled like a herd of sheep, except these sheep were armed. Swords were drawn, threats spilled out of lips, Kat had to look up. Amiel had stepped between Brauman and Aila, his hands raised, as if that would be enough to stop her sword. 

“Put away your swords!” Amiel ordered, looking to his crew. “Let’s have a civil discussion.” 

Most of the crew stepped back into line, though they kept their hands on their weapons. The two mer who had been counting the coins now trained their swords towards the crew, herding them onto a smaller portion of the deck. Sparks danced around their fists, clenched around the sword hilts. Kat hit the deck, an attempt to both hide, and get a better vantage on Brauman.

“What did you do Amiel?” Demanded the redguard, one hand cradled his nose, the other held him off the deck. With his body turned towards Aila, Amiel craned his neck so he could just see Brauman in his peripheral. For a moment Kat wondered why Amiel wasn't helping Brauman stand, until she saw the desperation in his eyes, he wanted to, but knew this would end poorly if he so much as turned his back.

“I may have spent a bit more at Senchal than I thought…” Amiel admitted. A groan arose from Brauman, whether from pain, or at Amiel’s stupidity, Kat wasn’t sure. 

“Come on Aila, there must be something here that you want.” Amiel suggested. 

Kat crawled closer to Brauman, who finally noticed her, and shook his head once, telling her to get back. Before Kat could comply, one of the elves yanked her up by the neck.

“Wasn’t there a bounty on a khajiit child with a scar Captain? Five hundred septims I believe?” Asked the mer, as Kat squirmed in his grip. He was the one who’d hit Brauman.

“Yes, we’ll take her, Amiel. The extra hundred can cover the trouble you’ve caused us.” Aila smiled at Amiel, and sheathed her sword. 

“Oh come now, Aila, I’m sure we have something else, something that wouldn’t be a strain on your rations…” Countered Amiel, though his cocky facade was fading, giving way to panic. 

“The bounty didn’t specify they wanted her alive, Captain.” She replied, her back towards him. 

Growling, Kat squirmed harder, her claws trying to find flesh on the arm that held her, but only scratching metal armour. The mer turned and headed for the rope ladder, no difference in his calm demeanor, as if he held an angry house-cat and not a hissing child. 

“Amiel, do something!” Brauman commanded, on his feet now, gripping Amiel by the collar of his coat. 

“I know, I-” Amiel stammered.

Kat’s claws found the one place the mer’s flesh was exposed, and sunk her left claws into his eye, he screamed, dropping her on the deck. She was back on her feet in an instant, arrow nocked and in his knee before he could grab her again.

“Kill her!” Aila shouted. She and her guards drew their swords, forming a circle around Kat, who frantically nocked another arrow and turned it on each of them in turn.

“Who to shoot, kitty. Go on and choose, you’ll die anyway.” Aila taunted. Her distraction worked, Kat stopped for a moment to aim for her face. The quiet mer behind her crept forward and sliced her bowstring. 

There was no time to panic, Kat ducked under as the mer swung his sword once again, and stared in shock as a sword exploded from his chest.

“Kill the bastards!” Amiel cried, pulling his sword out of the dead mer. 

The crew charged, Farii and the bosmer woman at it’s head. Another elven sword swooped down towards Kat, Aila’s. There was a crazed look in her bright eyes, though Kat supposed anyone depraved enough to attempt child murder must be mad. She raised her bow shaft to meet the sword, but was yanked out of the way before contact. 

Brauman pushed Kat behind him, standing between her and Aila, who pointed both swords towards them. Behind her, Farii, Amiel and several other crew members were engaged with the last two guards. It was almost like a dance, the elves firing sparks into the air and the crew dodging around waiting for an opportunity. 

“Out of my way.” Aila ordered.

“Afraid you don’t know Brauman all that well, if you did you’d know he’s not going to move.” It was the bosmer woman, she sauntered infront of Aila. “Although, we are of course, of lesser races, why should a stuck-up bitch like you associate with us?”

“How dare y-” Started Aila.

“Oh, terribly sorry to offend, your Holy Bitchness.” She interrupted, giving a theatrical bow. “I do hope how you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Aila charged, the bosmer parried, and Brauman pulled Kat away and towards Amiel and Farii. The bodies of the last two guards were being hauled over the rail, and dumped. 

“You want some help Nissa?” Amiel called to the bosmer. Aila charged her again, this time, Nissa sidestepped, and slashed the high elf. There was a bloody trail on Nissa’s sword, and a deep wound across Aila’s back.

“Ha! I think she needs it more!” Nissa laughed, holding her sword out for defense, Aila growled, charging once more. 

Nissa was a cat, toying with her prey, bathing in the frustration coming off the altmer in waves. Panting and losing blood, Aila dropped one sword and raised her fingertips, Nissa jumped out of the way just before the purple sparks could reach her. Now it was Nissa who charged, her deft sword winning over Aila’s sluggish movements, growing weaker the more blood seeped from her back. Shallow cuts covered Aila’s face, and she sank to her knees.

Kat couldn’t turn away. Her knees locked in place, right hand clenched tight to Brauman’s arm, the other holding the scar across her face. When she closed her eyes she only saw herself, kneeling in the sand, her father’s blade above her, so she kept them open.

“S’okay kid.” Brauman said, holding her close with his free arm. Between her fingers Kat watched the fight that was turning into an execution.

“Any last words, altmer?” Nissa asked, sword positioned at Aila’s neck. 

“Shut your foul mouth.” Aila snarled. With a snake’s speed, Aila yanked a dagger out of her boot, and shoved up into Nissa’s stomach. 

Several things happened at once then. Farii shouted something as Nissa screamed, both him and Amiel flying to her side. Nissa managed to slice her sword across the altmer’s throat as she sank to her knees, and crumpled onto her side. Altmer blood mixed with bosmer and redguard. The black sailed ship turned hard to port and away from the Dragonheart.

*****

“Keep your sword up kid. You do that in a real fight you’re dead.” Said Amiel, pointing a wooden sword towards her. 

The sun had disappeared behind the gray clouds of Sun’s Dusk, and the biting winds tore into skin and sail. Kat was beginning to see why people without fur liked wearing heavy coats.

“In a real fight, I would have shot by now.” Kat retorted, lashing out with her practise sword. Sighing, Amiel knocked her sword away from himself and smacked it by the hilt, causing Kat to drop it.

“Dead.” Amiel said. 

Rolling her eyes, Kat leaned down and grabbed the stick. By the time she got back into the guard position Amiel had taught her, her teacher was no longer paying attention. Is this a trick? Kat thought. Keeping her sword up for defense, she gazed out at the land he was staring at. To the port side lay a city with massive grey walls, far larger than Kat had ever seen. They had left the open sea almost a week ago, and Kat had grown used to seeing land once again, but this was the first city she’d seen in weeks.

Even though Amiel was staring down the city, Kat had the feeling he wasn’t really seeing it. Raising one eyebrow, she stepped infront of him and poked him in the chest with her sword. 

“Dead.” Said Kat. “You’re not paying attention though are you?” 

Amiel looked down at her and smiled. 

“Observant aren’t you kid? Sorry ‘bout that. I was just thinking of Nissa.” He replied.

“Didn’t your healer say she was getting better?” Asked Kat. 

“The wound yes. But she’s feverish now, and Willa suspects the dagger was poisoned…” Amiel began, dropping his practice sword and leaning on the railing. The city beyond grew ever closer.

“And since we dumped the bodies…” 

“Even if she had an antidote, it’s long gone. Willa’s sure the poison’s base is deathbell, so with any hope we can buy an antidote in Leyawiin.” Then he pushed off the railing and headed up to the helm, Kat close behind. “Drop anchor! We’re docking here.” He announced, before turning to Brauman. “You got your fancy list?”

Brauman just rolled his eyes.

“Good,” Said Amiel. “We’re taking the rowboat in. Where’s Farii?” Asked Amiel, stalking across the deck and leaving both Brauman and Kat to trail behind.

“He’s probably skulking around outside Nissa’s room since Willa banished him.” Brauman laughed, as he and Amiel lowered the rowboat into the gentle waves. 

“Oh come on, banished is a bit much.” Amiel argued. 

“You weren’t there.” Kat interrupted, just to remind them she was there. “She threatened to put a curse on him if he stepped into the medical room again.”

“And what if he’s hurt?” Amiel pointed out.

“He can get stitched up on the deck I suppose.” Added Brauman.

“I hope we never have to see how that goes.” Joked Amiel, lowering a rope ladder. “You coming kid?” 

Kat was dumbstruck. She hadn’t stepped foot on land in near two months.

“Why?” She questioned.

“I thought we could get you a new bow string. We’ve got enough for that don’t we Brauman?” Amiel explained, folding his arms. 

Grumbling, Brauman pulled out his list, flipping through parchment to find the budget. He glared at Amiel, muscle memory turning to the right papers. 

“Yes,” He muttered, before descending the ladder.


End file.
